Everything At Once
by nodesy
Summary: Quinn Fabray isn't quite sure who she is. She's a lot of things. (Quinn-centric, one-shot)


Well...first fic. Here we go. Quinn-centric and covers most of her storylines, especially Beth.

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Quinn Fabray isn't quite sure who she is.

She's a lot of things.

She's been a lot of different people.

She'd been the girl who everyone expected her to be. The girl who walked tall with her head high, her blonde hair pulled into a neat ponytail and curled perfectly, her hands placed confidently on her hips, with a red cheerleading uniform on. The girl who was the president of the celibacy club between intense Cheerio practices where she, as the captain, performs the stunts the other girls wished they could pull off, while acting as a teacher's pet to Sue Sylvester. The girl who knew she was envied, who knew she was seen as high school royalty because she was a case of the typical "head cheerleader dates the quarterback," who knew people looked up to her and people wanted to be her. The girl who wanted nothing more than to please her parents, to be prom queen (which everyone knew was an inevitability, because, well, she's Quinn), and to be the most popular and, seemingly, the most perfect.

She'd been the girl who was lonely, who realized that it's more than possible to be surrounded with friends and fellow teammates, but still somehow always feel alone. The girl who craved someone–anyone's–love, or just someone who'd listen to her hopes, her dreams, her fears, and her thoughts. The girl who spent her nights wondering if she was the only one who felt like this, and if the feeling would ever disappear. The girl who wanted to know how she could be the envy of every girl at William McKinley High School, but still feel empty inside, who knew there had to be something more out there.

She'd been the girl who'd made mistakes and been abandoned, who'd been left with nowhere to go. The girl who had completely lost everything she'd worked so hard for. The girl who had to grow up quickly, who came to the realization of what a family really was (and it wasn't parents who turned a blind eye and acted ashamed when faced with the truth). The girl who felt more alone than ever, who could never have imagined constantly feeling awful and embarrassed about and by herself. The girl who wished she could go back in time, and tell herself not to sleep with him, because, even if she thought it would, it wouldn't make him love her, and she wouldn't feel any better or any less isolated.

She'd been the girl at the bottom, who could feel people watching her all the time—and not in the way that they used to. The girl who's Cheerios uniform was replaced with floral dresses, or anything else she could grab from her closet in the thirty minutes she was given to pack. The girl who wished she could disappear into thin air, and hated that she'd gotten used to the feeling of being mocked behind her back, left alone as if she had a disease, and feeling like there was no hope left for anything. The girl who found out what it felt like to disappoint her parents, let down her team, and be seen as an embarrassment.

She'd been the girl who was a misfit, who went from being the captain of the Cheerios to a Glee club member—and not because she was spying anymore. The girl who had joined the club with bad intentions, but found out that her true friends were the glee club members. The girl who had learned so much from a club she thought was just about singing stupid showtunes, who had found her true friends, who, for the first time, had felt what it was like to be supported and loved for who she was and not for who she tried and pretended to be. The girl who looked forward to the hour spent in the choir room, because it allowed her to (at least, for a little while) forget about all the stress going on in her life. The girl who actually enjoyed being in glee club, and, as it turned out, was more proud to be in a club that accepted her and all her flaws than one who only liked her when she was popular and artificial.

She'd been the girl who found out what being completely and utterly heartbroken, even if it was for the better, felt like. The girl who learned that the worst thing she'd ever been through wasn't being teased in middle school, being thrown out by her parents, being whispered about because of her actions, or being kicked off the Cheerios, but holding her daughter for the first time and knowing that she was only hers for a few more minutes. The girl who knew that her daughter—Beth, she had decided on—was never really _her _daughter. The girl who knew she was doing what was best for her in the situation she was in, but couldn't help that it hurt so much to know she would never witness any of Beth's milestones or be constantly in her life to watch her grow up. The girl who, for a little while, convinced herself she could be a mom, but knew she wasn't ready for any of it. The girl who had cried herself to sleep for months, wishing she was still there, wondering what she was doing, and wanting nothing more than to see her pale hazel eyes again and to hold her tightly, letting Beth know that she loved her.

She'd been the girl who went numb. The girl who, for a year, didn't let herself feel anything at all. The girl who blocked out any feelings, and traces of compassion, any thoughts about Beth. The girl who rejoined the Cheerios as if nothing ever happened, but was much colder and much more distant. The girl who knew that, as much as she tried to forget it, it had happened—she did have a daughter, and she did think about her, and she did miss her horribly. The girl who was depressed and sad and alone but hid it by completely throwing herself into the exhausting non-stop combination of Cheerios and schoolwork so she wouldn't think and so she wouldn't feel.

She'd been the girl who was studious to hide her upset, who had daydreams about college, about getting an acceptance letter from Yale University, about living away, about being her own person. The girl who couldn't help but imagine life away from Lima, half-heartedly studying by her window while the snow fell outside. The girl who dove in head first and started essays weeks before they were due, who had everything in order, who walked tall, who studied hard, who saw a row of straight As on her report card, who couldn't wait for the day her name was called announcing her as the valedictorian once she graduated and finally got out of the town she'd always felt trapped in, filled with both good and bad memories she couldn't erase. The girl who seemed to be the perfect student, who all the colleges would want and who all her teachers considered their best student.

She'd been the girl who kept secrets, who locked everything inside, put on a front, sucked it up, and wouldn't in a million years be ready to tell anyone about her innermost thoughts and feelings. The girl who acts alright, but can't remember when she spent a day without worrying and upset about one thing or another—mostly having to do with the daughter (not her daughter) that she never really got over. The girl who felt the sting of depression, who knew too well what it was like to be in a dark place, to feel emotionless, but to still have pain from her everyday struggles and secrets, the burden of keeping everything locked away.

She'd been the girl who was broken, who couldn't take anymore. The girl who completely lost it during her senior year, who dyed her hair pink, got a crazy piercing, permanently marked her body with a pointless tattoo, and who took up smoking and cutting class just to feel _something. _The girl who was desperately crying for help, who wanted someone to pay attention and see how much she was struggling, but no one did. The girl who couldn't help but wonder if she was ever going to be happy again, who became the opposite of herself, who knew she was making all the wrong choices but didn't care either way, because nobody else seemed to.

She'd been the girl who felt for the first time in almost two years, since the day that she left the hospital without Beth. The girl who finally got to see the daughter…_her _daughter. The girl who saw the innocence that she'd lost long ago, the love she wanted, and the hope her parents had had for her own future in the tiny girl who had grown so much since the last time she had held her. The girl who missed Beth more than she thought was possible, but still knew that Shelby took care of her more than she and Puck ever could. The girl who, after wanting to do so for so long, got to hug her daughter, who was now a year and a half old and had a tufts of hair the same color Quinn had dyed her own back to. The girl who finally let herself cry after holding back tears for months when she saw her daughter for the first time. The girl who allowed herself to acknowledge that, even if she wasn't her mom in the sense that she didn't take care of Beth, or live with her, or see her every day, she was still her mom because she had brought her into the world and she was still important. The girl who found out that she was needed, and she was loved.

As of now, she's the girl in New Haven, Connecticut, studying at Yale University, just as she had hoped for years. She's the girl with a new life and new friends, but the girl who still keeps in touch with everyone from Glee—and of course, Beth. She's the girl who looks forward to going back home, because, even if she did mess up there, and even if she did have some bad years at McKinley, she also made some of her best memories and best friends in those hallways and classrooms—especially the choir room. She's the girl who lets herself feel, who finally opened up, and who realizes moving on doesn't mean forgetting and letting go. She's the girl who realized it's okay to be lost sometimes, that it's okay to be scared, confused, sad, curious, angry, overjoyed, lonely, and missing someone. She's the girl who, for the first time in a long time, is happy—or at least, she's really close to it.

Quinn still doesn't know what girl she is.

She might even be everything, just at different times. And she's not sure how she feels about that yet.

She's the girl who still hasn't figured everything out, but who has a long time to do so.

She's the girl who's realized it's okay to feel.

She's the girl who's realizing it's okay to be everything at once.


End file.
